I Ate Flowers

A funny thing has been happening to me lately...I have not been inspired to write.  I don't know if it's that Blogger has changed its setup to a format I don't really like, or if it's that I bought a Nintendo, or if it's just that I'm getting so settled into everyday life it's more difficult to know what to write about, or if it's that nothing particularly interesting has been happening, or if it's that everything that is interesting is just not appropriate to put on this blog.

I suspect it's just a little bit of all of that.

I mean...a few weeks ago, I went to Tokyo!  Certainly something worthy of blogging about.  I bought rainbow-lific items in Harajuku, rode in a taxi whose doors opened by themselves, and slept in a capsule hotel, which even gave me terrific flashbacks of being a child in Gaithersburg, Maryland, where I had a little hiding spot/hang out hole under the stairs in the basement, where I hid my diary and had decorated with stickers all over the exposed wooden two-by-four wall innards.

I got halfway through writing the post and just stopped dead in my tracks.  What I was writing seemed so dull and boring.  But...how could it?  I couldn't understand what was wrong.  I mean, how intriguing to be offered turtle legs, still with their little scales and claws intact, by a random Japanese man at a small sushi bar?  I decided to put it aside for a few days, but all that did was basically seal the deal that it was never going to get published.  I hadn't even gotten to the part about taking my Korean coteacher, Min, to Itaewon the weekend after Tokyo.  She is from Seoul but had never been to the international district before in her life!  I showed her Hooker Hill, Homo Hill, the shops, and we ate at Los Amigos, where she ordered "case-a-dilluz."  And the whole time we walked around the neighborhood she was marveling at the unfamiliar sights, pointing, and snapping photos with her iPhone...a tourist in her own city.

Who goes to a famous fish market in Tokyo and orders sushi without fish?  ME!!!

Meredith and I in the cab

Harajuku Station

Me in front of a funny store

Cute bags

Cute floors

Rainbow dog clothes

I look totally awesome in this shirt I bought from her

Tutus

Harajuku shop girl

Another Harajuku girl

And another...

My capsule hotel

Inside the tiny room 

I feel like a little girl in my little hiding spot!

My feet, and the door

This is random...but weird panda pictures were EVERYWHERE in Tokyo!  Look at his lips!

Back in Seoul...Min taking a picture of her quesadilla...ITAEWON!

A club on Homo Hill

Another one...

...and another!

Anyways, all I could think about was how I have finally gotten a new therapist, and she's American, but here in Seoul, and my upcoming hypnosis session with her, to help me find peace from a couple of incidents in my past, which never bothered me until years later, when they seemed to resurface (and still do) at the most inopportune of times...

I may or may not let you know how the session went.  It hasn't happened yet.

View from my new therapist's office

Then, a few weekends ago, I went to the Yangjae Flower Market with Amy.  It was more than worthy of a blog entry.  But the words never came.  I'll post pictures...perhaps they'll speak for themselves.  I couldn't believe it took me this long to go there!

Then two weekends ago, I went to the Garden of Morning Calm, just outside of Seoul, with Amy and some other South Africans.  I just want to say, I love South Africans, and we all loved that garden.

Amy and Me 

South Africans!!! (and maybe a Korean or two)

Look at this little southern mountain church!  What's it doing in Korea?

Flower bibimbop!  It was delicious!

Last weekend, I stayed in bed all day on Saturday sick.  I wasn't sick from a virus, or an infection...I was sick from a week of eating poorly.  Pizza two nights in a row, then creamy Indian food, and no vegetables, a lot of staying late at work, and a day at the zoo on Friday with the kids, and a bite of kimbop (which I can no longer stomach), and no real lunch, and three bottles of ice green tea (more caffeine than my body has seen in a good long while), and by Friday night, I felt almost near death.  Like, I know I'm pretty dramatic, but I'm not kidding...it was bad.  I barely remember teaching my afternoons (on Monday I kept saying, "Wait--I forgot to give you your spelling quiz on Friday!!!" and the kids would be like, "Um...no you didn't.  We took it." and sure enough, I had written down the scores and everything).  That night, Gene and Amy had to take me from school in a cab, to a restaurant that serves raw vegetables.  I ate a big salad and was able to make it up my hill!  The next day, I barely made it to the grocery store down the street, and came home with nothing but broccoli, spinach, and chard...and shoved it in my face all day long...which detoxed me, making me feel even worse.  I was a zombie...my face was swollen...I could barely move.  That was all day Saturday.  I was being quite a fighter...I could get better...I would get better...with the power of my own cooking...healthy foods...the right foods...yes, I could do it!

Then I woke up Sunday morning and my fridge was broken.  It was all warm inside and the food was spoiling.  I burst into tears.

Who cries over a refrigerator?  I do, that's who.  It seems crazy, but I don't need one more obstacle between me and getting my diet just right.  It's hard enough as it is.  No one understands.  I felt so alone.  Plus, when I'm sick like that from food, my depression acts up as well.  It's quite vicious, really.  I know what you're thinking...there was nothing but vegetables in that fridge...duh, they'll be fine!  But I had also spent a long time cooking delicious beans the night before...and I had sour cream to go with them...and of course, yogurt, which I have for breakfast...and well, it really did seem like quite a tragedy.

But on Sunday, after dropping off some food over at Gene's to live in her fridge for a while, I went for a little picnic with her, Scott, (the one whose cat I have...he's back from Thailand for like a month before he returns to the States), and Amy.  It was nice to get out.  I ate more broccoli.  I relaxed in the grass, under the trees.  I marveled at the Korean family who brought their adorable, fluffy pet bunnies and had them on leashes in the park, but wouldn't let anybody pet them.  I wished for dandelions so I could make a necklace.  I remembered once when I was little in South Carolina and made a dandelion chain with my friend Casey all the way around her house.  I thought about the golf course we lived on back then, and how the huge fairway sprinklers would come on in the summer, and how fun it had been to run through them on that huge, open field of clean grass.

On Monday I was tired, and listened to Tori Amos all day (while not teaching).  I ate up all that sad and angry music being sung to my subconscious.  I ate more vegetables. I ate black rice and tofu.  It rained all day and I was quite content with that.  After work, a man came over and gave me a new fridge motor.

On Tuesday I walked into school and smiled brightly and extended my arms above my head and said, "Good Morning!!!" and really meant it.  I got presents for Teacher's Day (awesome Korean holiday), and two packages from my mom in the mail, with summer clothes, and my favorite crackers from America.  I ate more broccoli, the whole wheat pasta spirals from my mom's package, and the rest of the chard and spinach.  I watched American Idol.  I talked to Amy on Skype about our upcoming trip to Thailand.  I wrote.  I fell asleep.

I dreamt about flowers.